Saturday, September 1, 2012
oh, ya, the endoscopy
Punkin woke up at 5:00am (the previous day he had woken up at 3:00am, so this was a remarkable improvement), ate a hot dog, tater tots, and watermelon around 6:00am, and then was exceptionally well-behaved until about 10:00am when he started to feel hungry. By the time we arrived at the hospital at 12:30, he was in tears. Oma carried all of our stuff and I carried Punkin up to the pediatric clinic, where they checked him in and took his vitals. Then they brought him back to the recovery area, put numbing cream on both hands and elbows (for his IV placement) and told us to come back in an hour. The nurse made this seem like it would be fun. HA! The kid hasn't been able to eat since 6am and won't get to anytime soon. He couldn't care less about you and your silly ideas.
I don't even remember the exact sequence of events after that. All I know is that at one point he was laughing and playing, another he marched up to the front desk and demanded a "note" (discharge papers) so that we could leave, and at another point I was restraining him to keep him from throwing whatever he could pick up at my face.
Then came the bargaining.
"We can't eat yet. The doctor needs to take pictures of your stomach to help you to stop throwing up."
"When we're all done, we can eat."
"Get a burger?"
Now repeat this conversation fifteen times.
After waiting the hour, he refused to drink the sedative they wanted to give him, so several nurses, Oma, and I held him down while the IV was inserted. They also called a Child Life Specialist, who brought *NEW* toys and even gave him his very own Lightning McQueen. After that, things became much funnier much more quickly -- for all of us. There's really nothing like seeing your kid "drunkenly" playing with Lightning McQueen. A little while later, they were able to fully sedate him and about 30 minutes after that it was done. The doctor said there are no glaring abnormalities, but did mention a loose connection between his stomach and esophagus, which makes it easier for food to come up.
As he was waking up from the sedation, he lifted his head and coyly asked, "Go McDonalds?"
We made it. We fed him and then I got him in his bed at home. Free and clear. The horrible day was over.
This was the most wretched vomit I had seen or smelled in a long time. I got him in the shower; he cried the entire time. I cleared the sheets, took his temperature (100.4) and settled him into my bed. As I looked at him, it hit me. I told you the doctor would help you.
I called Oma, completely lost it on the phone, and then cried into her shoulder when she arrived to comfort me. I felt like I had tortured him all day for no reason. Turns out he is probably allergic to the sedative they gave him, the biopsies were all normal and he forgave me.
Posted by Erika Bremer at 2:33 PM